


Beneath the Snow

by crypticorvid



Series: Tales from Esempe [4]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Absolutely Bullshit Lore, Angel of Death Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Kristin is the Embodiment of Death, Like I Just Made It Up on the Spot, Parental Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Pig Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Pre-Canon, Slight references to Phil's hardcore world Lore, Techno and Phil are Best Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crypticorvid/pseuds/crypticorvid
Summary: Playing in the snow, Wilbur finds a little brother. All the while Phil deals with the prospect of adopting yet another son, as well as the implications of Her presence.
Relationships: Kristin Rosales Watson/Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: Tales from Esempe [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051805
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	Beneath the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo! Apparently I'm inspired now lol, so here's some cute shit that is actually really painful with the context of recent canon! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Despite his father’s - rather strenuous - objections, Wilbur was up to his waist in snow and happily digging himself a network of tunnels throughout the vast expanse of snow before him. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see both his father and Techno watching him from the porch, the latter holding up a mug of steaming liquid in a vague attempt to entice the child into returning to the house. 

Wilbur laughed, shaking his head at the tall man and immediately ducking back into his little snow fort. A perk of living this far north was just how _fast_ snow accumulated on the ground, it had only started snowing an hour earlier but the snow banks were already nearly as tall as the young boy and still growing. Ignoring the tingling of numbness in his fingers, Wilbur continued carving his tunnels and singing to himself quietly. 

Then there was a soft sound, not quite a voice but not a whisper. Wilbur perked up, eyes darting across the snow in search of whatever animal had made the sound. His dark eyes fell upon a figure standing all the way across the front yard - no, not standing. The figure was floating almost two inches over the snow, their jet black robes flowing gently with a non-existent breeze. An odd feeling of warmth settled in Wilbur’s chest and he grinned at the figure, offering them a friendly wave before turning back to his project. 

The sound came again, louder this time, and Wilbur realized it sounded like _him_ ; a soft mimicry of his own voice beckoning him closer to where the figure floated. Despite the rather obvious danger such a situation could pose, Wilbur felt . . . safe, as though he knew without a doubt that the figure would _never_ hurt him.

Picking his steps carefully so as to not fall through the snow’s icy shell, Wilbur wandered over to the figure with a bemused smile on his face. Glancing back at his father he notices the man sitting forward in his chair, eyes fixed intently on the figure, almost as if he knew them as well. Wilbur waved at his father once more before stopping in front of the figure, cocking his head in a question just as Techno often did. 

The figure didn't speak again, instead gesturing to an indent in the snow between them. A thought presented itself to Wilbur and he nodded happily, kneeling down and digging his small hands into the frigid snow. He didn't have to dig for long, his hands catching on what felt like cloth, or perhaps skin? It was hard to tell the exact texture through his numb fingertips. Excited, the young boy continued digging until he realized what he was staring at. 

Skin white as the snow around it was swaddled in a velvety soft red blanket and Wilbur gasped, immediately gathering the small bundle to his chest and staring up at the figure in a silent question. Nothing came from the dark form, though Wilbur felt an odd warmth and sense of . . . pride? He couldn't be sure, and with the baby tucked against his chest he really had other things to focus on. 

The young boy turned on his heel and sprinted towards his father, tripping over himself as his heavy footfalls shattered the hard surface of the snow. Luckily Techno was there, as he always was, and the tall man pulled Wilbur from the snow in one easy motion. Both Wilbur and the baby were tucked against the piglin’s warm chest and bundled in his ever-present cloak. His father shouted something but Techno simply grunted and gestured for the other man to open the door to their home, inclining his head to the two boys in lue of an answer. 

His father grumbled something that Wilbur couldn't make out, but opened the door nonetheless. As soon as they crossed the threshold Wilbur’s skin began to tingle and warm, the baby in his arms beginning to regain its color as well. Techno settled on the chair closest to the fireplace, making no move to put Wilbur down, instead taking his cloak off and tucking it around the boy as a blanket. Between the warmth of both the piglin’s unnatural body heat, and the fireplace, Wilbur’s eyelids began to grow heavy, head dipping to rest on Techno’s breastbone. Techno huffed softly and ran a comforting hand through the boy’s hair, adjusting their position so neither Wilbur nor the baby were likely to fall as they dozed off. Content with both his new companion and the warmth of his father’s best friend, Wilbur let sleep drag him away.

* * *

Phil sighed heavily, eyes fixed on the small shrine in his bedroom as he knelt. Silently he called for her, hoping against hope that she would see fit to give him any insight on her intentions. And, much to his surprise, a cool wind blew his hair back and she appeared, legs folded elegantly beneath her and eyes bright with pride. 

_“What-”_ The old language is still clumsy on his tongue, despite his centuries of experience. _“Who is he? He's not- is he mine?”_

She chuckled and shook her head, _“No, my angel. He is neither yours nor mine.”_ As usual, she didn't offer any extra information and watched him with gentle amusement.

 _“Then why? Why was he in the snow?”_ The very thought of abandoning such a young child sent a chill of icy rage down Phil’s spine and he frowned, _“Why did Wilbur find him?”_

 _“Hmm,”_ She seemed to be choosing her words carefully, lips pursed in thought. _“He will need our boy, and our boy will need him.”_ Ah, of course, more vague cosmic shit. 

Phil laughed softly and shrugged, _“I really should have expected such a cryptic answer.”_ His tone held no malice, such vague speech was something all spirits spoke with and was intrinsically linked to their otherworldly nature. _“Why didn't you take him? He should have died out there.”_

 _“Our boy will need him,”_ She reiterated, eyes bright with mischief. _“The child has an enormous heart, he will do wonderful things.”_ Gently, she took Phil’s hands into her own, her skin cold as ice. She placed a soft kiss on his cheek before letting out a soft laugh, _“He will be a handful, I do not envy you. But you will love him.”_

 _“I always do,”_ Phil agreed tiredly, _“Will I lose him? I don't think I can handle losing another one.”_

 _“Oh my darling angel,”_ She gathered him into an embrace, _“All things are lost eventually. Do not fret, you will watch this one grow and he will make you proud. And,”_ She kissed his cheek again, _“When he enters my domain he will be comfortable and happy, waiting for you just as the others are.”_

Realistically, he thought to himself, it was all he could really hope for. Phil nodded and sighed against her chest, _“Thank you, my lady. I’ll raise him as best as I can.”_

Her hands were cold as she lifted his face to meet her glittering onyx eyes, _“I know you will, my angel. You will never let me down, do not forget that.”_ Softly, a hand ran through his hair. _“Our boys will wander, and they will be lost, but such is the way of things. A sheltered bird-”_

 _“-Will never see the sky,”_ Phil finished with a smile, _“I understand. Thank you again, my lady.”_

_“Of course, my angel of death.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Hehe I really like the implications I can create with the context of Phil's wife literally being DEATH HERSELF. Anyway at least the boys are with their momma in the afterlife right? r i g h t ?


End file.
